The Triangle
by MovieBuffStarlet
Summary: How a five year old Angel first became interested in music.


The door creaked rather loudly as Angel pushed it open. Cringing, he looked back and scanned the hall to see if anyone was coming.

The coast was clear.

Good thing, too. Angel did not want to get into trouble. Only the older children were allowed in the music room…it was feared that the younger ones would break or damage the equipment. Kids at this school did not get to take a music class until the 3rd grade, and even then, those students were to only play a screechy wind instrument known as the 'recorder'. Angel has sometimes heard them during class they were so loud, and he didn't like the sound of it.

He enjoyed the sounds other instruments made. The xylophone, flute, the triangle…

Angel _really_ liked the sound of the triangle. It sounded magical.

Quickly, Angel slipped inside the pitch black room and shut the door. The dark scared him a little. He got up on his toes and groped blindly for a light switch. At last, he had found it.

Angel blinked, momentarily stunned by the brightness. He looked around the room and squealed excitedly, wondering what he should try.

He saw so many instruments….even ones he never heard of. The xylophones, flutes, the triangles, even the drums…they were all there.

Even a big, black piano was off in the far corner of the room.

Wrinkling his nose at the recorders, Angel slowly made his way over to a plastic bin where all the triangles were kept. He sat on the floor and reached in, pulling out one of them. He inspected the instrument, running his hands over the smooth, cold metal.

Finally, Angel hung it in the air, letting it hang by its wire. He reached into the bin again to pull out a small metal wand. He raised his hand and softly struck the triangle with the wand, grinning when a light, high pitched ringing sound filled the air.

Angel giggled. Triangles were like wind chimes…only cooler.

The door knob turned, tearing Angel from his thoughts. He snapped his attention to it.

As if in slow motion, the door was beginning to creak open.

Angel's eyes widened.

_Oh, no..._

"Hello? Anyone in here?" A woman's voice called.

Angel froze like a deer trapped in headlights. He dropped the triangle and its wand back into the bin. He looked this way and that, briefly considering hiding under the piano. He shook from head to toe, going into panic mode.

The door was fully open now and a modestly dressed young woman was standing there, surprised by the little, curly headed tyke with the large, brown doe eyes.

"Well…hello, there. I don't remember seeing you before." She smiled, stepping into the room. She began walking over towards him.

"I'm so _sorry_….I wasn't going to touch anything else! I was just looking! I _promise_!" Angel squeaked, shrinking away from her.

The young woman got down on her knees beside Angel, smoothing out her black, knee length skirt.

"It's okay, sweetie. I'm not mad." She smiled, tucking a strand of brown, shoulder length hair behind her ear.

Angel could immediately feel the fear and the tension melt from his body. He smiled back, deciding that he liked her. She was pretty…and she smelled really nice.

"I'm Miss Brady, the music teacher." She extended her hand out to him. "What's your name?"

Angel tried to shake her hand as best he could, smiling shyly. "Miss Brady? Like in the Brady Bunch??"

She laughed. "Yes. I suppose you're right."

And then, Angel remembered to answer her other question.

"Oh, yeah. I'm Angel."

"Angel? That's a _pretty_ name!" The teacher grinned.

"Gracias, Ma'am….er…Miss Brady." Angel blushed.

"Do you speak both Spanish and English?" Miss Brady asked him, intrigued.

"Yes, Ma'am. I started to learn English back when I was little…in Pre-School." Angel nodded.

"You must be very smart, then." She smiled warmly.

Angel giggled.

"How old are you, Angel?"

Angel paused here. He didn't want to lie…but if he told her his actual age, then she might not let him touch the instruments.

"I'm nine. Almost _ten_."

"Really?" Miss Brady smirked, holding back the urge to laugh. "You look awfully _short_ to be that age."

"That's 'cause I haven't hit my growth spurt yet!" Angel insisted, fearful that she was catching on.

"You can tell me the truth, I won't be mad." She assured him, chuckling softly.

Angel sighed in defeat and hung his head.

"I just turned five." He muttered. "I'm in Kindergarten."

Miss Brady smiled. "Now, _that's_ better. What are you doing all the way down here by yourself, Angel? Why aren't you eating lunch in your room with the other children?"

The child looked up at her, surprised by her question.

"Well, the other kids aren't very nice sometimes. And I really like music…so I sneaked away 'cause I wanted to eat my lunch here and play with some of the instruments. _Please_? Can I? I mean…_may_ I??"

Honestly, if Angel could've stayed here forever, he would. Fingerpainting with a bunch of noisy, obnoxious children wasn't really his idea of fun.

"Well," Miss Brady glanced at her watch. "You can stay for the rest of the lunch hour. Then I'll walk you back to your classroom. How does that sound?"

Angel grinned. "That sounds _wonderful_! Thank you _so_ much, Miss Brady!"

"You're _very_ welcome." She reached over, playfully ruffling his curls. The little boy squealed with glee, trying to push her hand away.

"So, how did you get so interested in music? Can you play anything? Can you sing?"

"Mother plays music all the time at home. And she sings, too. Sometimes she lets me sing Christmas carols with her. I also _love_ to dance..."

Angel paused, remembering something. His eyes were suddenly wide.

"Oh, _yeah_! And there's this man who drums on the street corner beside our apartment! He's really, really good…even though he just drums on a bucket. And he's really nice, too! He even taught me how to…"

"A man?" Miss Brady asked, trying to hide her concern. Though, Angel seemed to sense it anyway.

"I know I'm not supposed to talk to strangers." He began apologetically. "But he's really nice and he seems kinda lonely, too."

Miss Brady nodded absently, lost in thought.

"You're not angry with me, are you?" Angel asked her cautiously.

"Oh, no. Not at _all_. I was just thinking." She shook her head, reassuring him.

"About what?" He tilted his head, very curious.

Grinning, Miss Brady leaned over and reached for a small pair of bongo drums, she slid them over to Angel.

Angel gasped. They looked _brand_ _new_!

"They're so _pretty_! And _beautiful_! And _shiny_! And-"

"I'd like to see you play." Miss Brady explained. "You think you're ready?"

Angel grabbed the drums, centering them in front of him.

"I'll try my _best_."

Eyes now narrowed with concentration, Angel began to pound out a simple, yet lively beat on the drums with his hands.

"Hey, that's pretty _good_!" Miss Brady smiled, clapping along with the rhythm. Her eyes widened in fascination as the beats gradually began to vary and increase in speed and complexity.

_Wow. A prodigy…_

"Where did you learn to play like that??"

Snapping out of his musical trance, Angel stopped and looked up.

"The man on our street corner showed me this. Do ya like it??"

"I _love_ it! That was fantastic!" The young woman gushed.

Angel grinned proudly, blushing.

"Thank you. I wanna learn more percussion someday…"

"You know what the word '_percussion'_ means??" Miss Brady interrupted, amazed.

"Well, sure. It's what I just did…drumming. Hitting things." Angel laughed. "It's _fun_! I like to use everything I can get…buckets, boxes. I wanna use my Mother's pots and pans but I know she'll get mad if I do…"

As the child babbled on and on excitedly, pausing once or twice to get a breath in, Miss Brady's mind was whirling.

_What can I do for this special little one?_

"Hey, honey?" She stopped him in mid sentence.

"Yes?"

"How would you like to keep the drums? Think of them as a late birthday present."

The boy's already large eyes became enormous.

"_Really_? Do you _mean_ it??"

"Of course I do." Miss Brady gave him a sincere smile.

A loud, high pitched squeal popped out of Angel. He reached down and scooped up the tiny drum set, hugging his new, prized possessions to his chest.

"Ohhhh…." Angel suddenly paused here, setting the drums back down on the ground.

"What's the matter?" The teacher raised an eyebrow. "Is everything okay?"

"Miss Brady, this was very kind of you...but I don't know if I can accept this." Angel replied.

"How come?" She asked him, confused.

"….I didn't get _you_ anything…"

Miss Brady laughed at this. "You can give me a hug."

Nodding, Angel crawled over to her, wrapping his arms around her neck. Miss Brady rested a hand on his back, giving him a gentle squeeze. With her other hand, she reached up, ruffling his curls again.

Bursting into high pitched giggling, Angel stood up and backed away from her.

"_Hey_! You _tricked_ me!"

"You know," Miss Brady smirked jokingly. "I can make you go _bald_ if I rub your head hard enough."

Angel squealed and giggled some more, placing both hands on his head protectively.

"Come on." Miss Brady stood up, walking over to the far corner of the room. "I want to give you something."

Curious, Angel followed her.

Miss Brady stopped at a rather large ice box against the wall. She eased open the lid with both hands and dug in.

"I always give my students these after each class." She explained.

Angel gripped onto the edge of the ice box and stood up on his toes, trying to peer inside. Alas, he was too short.

"What _is_ it??" Angel cried, jumping up and down now.

"Here you go." Miss Brady stood up, closing the lid of the ice box. She handed him an ice cream sandwich.

Angel squealed once more, eagerly taking the frozen treat from her.

"Thank yoooou!" He said, tearing at the plastic wrapper. "I wish you were _my_ teacher."

The young brunette smiled at him fondly.

"And I wish you were my student. I can't _wait_ to see you in the 3rd grade."

Angel jumped as the bell sounded, indicating the end of lunchtime.

"_Awwww_…." He pouted, taking a bite of his ice cream sandwich.

"Come on, Angel." Miss Brady laughed, taking his hand. "I'll bet your classmates and teacher are wondering where you are."

"No." Angel shook his head. "I don't really talk when I'm with them. They're _mean_."

"Well, there's always tomorrow." Miss Brady replied brightly.

"What's tomorrow??" Angel peered up at her.

"You can come by here during lunchtime, if you'd like. In fact, you can come by here _every_ lunchtime…as long as you get your teacher's permission."

"_Okay_!" Angel nodded eagerly.

"Maybe I can teach you to _sing_!" Miss Brady grinned, amused by this little ball of energy.

"_Yay_!" Angel bounced a little. "I've always wanted to sing my whole entire _life_!"

Chuckling, Miss Brady began walking towards the doorway with Angel in tow. They were just about to step out into the hallway when she stopped suddenly.

"What's wrong?" Angel looked up at her, startled.

"You forgot your drums!" She answered him, grinning.

"Oh my _gosh_!" Angel gasped, realizing that she was right. He slipped his hand out of hers and ran back inside, scooping up the tiny drum set with one hand. He ran back to her, tossing his half eaten ice cream sandwich in the trash bin as he did so.

"Okay, I'm ready now." Angel grabbed onto her hand again, smiling up at her.

"Good." Miss Brady laughed. "Let's go."

As they made their way down the hall, Angel was feeling a little bit better about school. He no longer felt so intimidated.

He now could look forward to seeing his new friend every day at lunchtime.

THE END


End file.
